


Unsung Heroes

by herworship429



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7807645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herworship429/pseuds/herworship429
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There would be no medals for the Rogues. No cheers or applause, no giddy, grateful laughter. No one would ever know that the four battered miscreants in the back row had saved them all, and suddenly she was struck by just how utterly unfair that was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsung Heroes

The decision to do what had been done had not been a simple or easy one to make. Hundreds of thousands of people lived and worked on the Death Star; and nearly all of them had probably been what Mon Mothma might have termed ‘innocent’. Foot soldiers with no real stake in this war, loyal officers who were only doing the duty they had sworn to do, engineers and sanitation workers… some of them might even have been ignorant of what the Death Star was and what destruction and death it was capable of raining down on the galaxy. Maybe, if they had known, they might have agreed that it needed to be stopped. At all costs.

Still, Mothma took no pleasure in their deaths. She wished she might have saved them, but of course, that was impossible. Not after Alderaan.

She kept to the side at the ceremony to honor the heroes of the Battle of Yavin, as it was being called now; out of the spotlight, away from curious eyes. Let Princess Leia become the face of the Rebellion, let her wear her finery and hand out metals to the crew of miscreants and farmboys she had brought to their rescue. The galaxy would never know who was really responsible for all of this. Who had really saved them all from the Empire’s death machine.

Because they were no better than the pair of smugglers Princess Leia was currently draping in medals; if anything, they were arguably worse than smugglers. Mercenaries and defectors and rebellious loners, with no great public victory to their names. Bail had objected in the strongest terms to the entire mission. If they had failed, all of this would have been for nothing. And if anything good was to come from all of this bloodshed, it would come in the form of a restored Galactic Republic. That was why they were doing any of this. 

Many of her immediate underlings had hoped that ‘the Rogues’, as they had taken to calling Jyn Erso and her team with a condescending sneer, would have all died during their mission. When they refused to do even that, those officers had hoped that at least that they would have the decency to fade away and disappear. After all, a peaceful republic could not be haunted by the ghosts of the terrible, illegal and unsightly things it had to do to win back its rightful place in the galaxy. They were simply a necessary evil that was supposed to go away and never come back. 

But Andor was too noble and too stubborn for that. And somewhere along the way, Malbus seemed to have found religion. Rook wasn’t going without a fight, and they could hardly make them leave, those who had proven themselves beyond the shadow of a doubt. As for Erso… Mothma privately believed that her enduring presence in the Alliance had more to do with the others, particularly Andor, than her dedication to the cause. She had not been shy in expressing her frustration with the politics that were consuming the Rebel Alliance, an opinion that Mothma didn’t entirely disagree with. But Jyn had already lost a family, and now that she had found a new one, she wasn’t going to let them go so easily. 

Perhaps that was why those ghosts the rest of High Command found so distasteful were currently standing in the back row. Andor, still recovering from his injuries, was leaning heavily on a cane, and Erso was welded to his side, her face closed-off. Malbus was just behind them, as if he had appointed himself the protector of his friends in the absence of Andor's hulking menace of a droid, and Rook was leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed and a sulky look on his face.

There would be no medals for the Rogues. No cheers or applause, no giddy, grateful laughter. The princess didn’t even know who had delivered the vital plans to her, nor would she ever know, for everyone's safety. No one would ever know that the four battered miscreants in the back row had saved them all, and suddenly, as Mothma’s eyes met Jyn’s accusing stare, she was struck by just how utterly unfair that was. She had to suppress the urge to take the stage herself and introduce the unsung heroes of the Battle of Yavin.

But they were gone before the ceremony ended. Unwilling to stay and listen to strangers sing praises of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker, she supposed. Or perhaps it was for Andor’s sake. She made a note to check in on him before she left the base, but she never did get a chance. 

Later, after the hurried festivities had ended and everyone had gone back to preparing to abandon Yavin 4, Mothma happened upon Luke Skywalker in the hangar as she was making her way back to her shuttle. He was speaking with one of the other pilots, the only other member of his squadron to escape the Death Star.

“What do you say, Wedge? We find the best pilots in the rebellion. The most elite fighter squadron we can muster. They can’t say no to that, it’s exactly what we need. Crack shots and better fliers.”

“To do what, Luke?” Antilles seemed uncertain. The younger man gave his friend a brilliant, and slightly mischievous smile.

“The impossible, of course. We just need a good name.”

“Yeah, that’s all we need,” Antilles grinned wearily and shook his head, “That and some other pilots, and better ships, and a place to train, and-”

“Let’s just start with the name,” Skywalker straightened suddenly and frowned, turning towards Mothma with a sheepish expression. Antilles swore under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, I-”

“Rogue Squadron,” Mon Mothma cut him off with a faint, sad smile.

“E-excuse me?”

“The best of the best, you said?” she continued, “Crack shots and better fliers? An elite squadron, prepared to do the impossible?”

“Yes,” Skywalker frowned at her again, his face a mask of uncertainty.

“As I said. Rogue Squadron,” her voice was full of finality, “I’ll speak to the commanders immediately. I’m sure they will approve.”

“Thank you,” Skywalker sounded a little helpless and very grateful. Mothma just smiled.

No medals. No cheers or applause, no giddy, grateful laughter. The galaxy might never know what the Rogues did, but neither would they be forgotten. All would come to know the name, and they would respect it. 

She would see to that, one way or another. It was the very least she could do.


End file.
